


Return

by lyricalsoul



Series: Hiatus [3]
Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes (1984 TV), Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: ACD verse, Angst, Granada Holmes, M/M, Post-Reichenbach Falls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-27
Updated: 2012-08-27
Packaged: 2017-11-12 23:33:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/496904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyricalsoul/pseuds/lyricalsoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Watson reluctantly returns to London. Mary is waiting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Return

I return to London a broken man.

 

My body is battered and aching. Weeks of walking and climbing have taken their toll. I am certain I've contracted pneumonia from my prolonged exposure to the mists of the Falls, and from being foolish enough to stay out in the rain.

 

I am burning. Both with fever, and with the shame that everyone will know that I lost him. I alone am responsible for the events that took place. I should have convinced him not to go, convinced him that the capture of Moriarty was not worth his life.

 

In the dark recesses of my mind, I know he would not have listened to me. I have often prided myself on being the one man Holmes trusted above all others, the one man to whom he would turn in his hour of need. But he was a stubborn man. A man of secrets, and a man determined to have his way, no matter the cost. Though he often claimed to be lost without me, he was a man born to solitude and self-preservation.

 

His Boswell. I snort derisively at that. I am certain that Mr. Boswell never lost Mr. Johnson, nor let him die a painful death when he was charged with his well-being.

 

"John?"

 

I turn at the voice of my wife. "Mary," I sigh.

 

"Your telegram only reached me yesterday." She embraces me tightly. "Are you all right?"

 

Though I try hard to stem the tide of bitterness that wells in my chest, I find that I cannot. I push her away from me, and put my fists on my hips. "No, I am not all right. I am tired, aching, and I seem to have a fever. My best friend, my brother, my... Holmes is dead. Lost in an abyss. I have been searching for him for the past three weeks, to no avail. There is nothing left for me, as the one who meant everything to me is gone. All I want is to lie down in a hole and die. You can draw your conclusions from that." I know my words have wounded her, but I cannot bring myself to care. I snatch up my satchel and Holmes' stick, and stalk toward a waiting cab.

 

After a few moments, Mary climbs into the cab and takes my hand. "I'm sorry, John. I know you did everything you could to find him."

 

I do not snatch my hand away, though it is what I want most. I do not want to be touched, do not want to be comforted. I want to be in pain, to be in anguish, as it is the only thing that I have to focus on. "Thank you for your kind words, my dear. But please... be silent. I cannot talk about it now. Please understand."  
She looks at me, her blue eyes dulled with unshed tears. "I understand. Shall I fetch Dr. Jackson? Your illness should not go untreated."

 

"I will be fine, Mary. A hot bath and an elixir. Then I'll rest. All right?"

 

With a nod, she turns her gaze away from me.

 

I have never hated myself more than at this moment. I lean my head against the wall of the cab, and try my damndest not to let the tears fall.


End file.
